Hit It Maestro
by PuraJazzBot
Summary: [G1]Meet the creator of one of Generation One's muchloved Autobots and see the events that led to that Autobot's creation... TFs property of HasTak
1. Maestro

**Maestro**

He was, in one word, old. Almost ancient. So old infact that whatever color his paint had been in his prime, it had now faded to a grey and black. If ever he moved there was a chance you would hear a squeak or grind of gears and rotors as, little by little, friction crept into his joints. As far as many were concerned, he was about ready to be smelted.

About, but not yet. He still had one little spark of youth left in him, one that shone brightly in his optics, and as long as that still burned he wasn't ready to join the scrap heap just yet, not while he still had an ounce of life. While his systems still functioned he refused to be confined to a recharge berth like some crippled mech.

But there were some times when he felt like going into permanent shut down because, frankly, there was nothing worth living for anymore.

It was not that he was deprived of material things. He was, after all, quite a well-to-do mech after the upper echelons of Cybertron rewarded him for the service he had given in the past. His residence was located in the upper middle-class district of Polyhex. However, for all his wealth and knowledge, he lacked one thing – he had no one to share it with, no younger robot to pass it all down to. The youth of Cybertron were no longer interested in the things he loved most in life.

Heaving a dejected sigh he pushed open the door to one of Polyhex's more civilized pubs and stepped inside. None of the patrons even bothered to look at him. The only one to acknowledge his presence was the bartender. He nodded to the old robot as he sat down in front of the counter.

"What'll it be Maestro?" the bartender asked. "The usual as always?"

Maestro shook his head. "Something stronger Freeflow," he told the amber colored mech.

Freeflow set a smaller metal 'glass' on the counter and poured in a shot of higher grade energon. Maestro picked it up and drained it one gulp.

"One more," he said.

The younger bartender filled up his glass again, then moved off to see to a new customer who had just come in, leaving Maestro in the care of one of his assistants.

Finally, an hour before closing-time, Freeflow came back. Maestro had his head resting on his arms which were folded across the bar counter. Three glasses were placed in front of him. He looked up as Freeflow pulled up a stool and sat down opposite him.

"Time for one more drink," he said.

"I think its time for you to go home Maestro," Freeflow replied.

"What's the point? I've nothing to go home to."

"Well, you're not going to sit here and drink yourself into over-charge."

"I might as well."

"Maestro, did something happen today?"

"Why, yes lad, I got fired."

Freeflow sat up a bit straighter. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yes. So am I. The Academy, they called it retiring. I may be old, but I'm not stupid."

"Did they tell you why?"

"None of these younger bots, it seems, are interested in music anymore. Most of them are more interested in trying to upgrade themselves, especially since they created that new breed after those fights broke out in the South district. Transformers they call them. So of course, who the pit can be bothered with learning music?"

"I'm sure you can get a job at another Academy."

Maestro leveled him with a resigned look.

"Music is not just a job to me 'Flow. Its my life. Its what I was created for. And look at me, I'm old. And somewhere in my core I know I don't have much time left. Yet I don't want to leave without giving Cybertron some sort of musical culture. I don't want music to die with me. But no one wants to learn."

"Yea? Well then maybe you should create your own students," an old, green, rough-voiced mech said from further down the bar as he stood up and slapped some credits down on the counter. "Seeing as how you got nothing else to do."

Maestro stared at him as the bot made his way outside, transformed and sped off.

"Who was that guy?" he asked.

"One of the Transformers from the South," Freeflow said. "Don't listen to him, he's got a few wires crossed in his CPU. Comes up here every once in a while and starts telling all these cracked up stories when he thinks he's got an audience."

But the seed was now planted. Maestro stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Freeflow watched him. "You're not seriously thinking of doing something like that are you?"

"Music may not be the only thing I know how to create. Besides, what have I got to lose?"

"What about Orchestra?"

Maestro looked at the young bartender sharply for an instant and Freeflow flinched, a bit afraid that he had said something wrong. But then the old robot's features softened and he sighed.

"Lad", he said. "She's almost as old as I am, though she probably has more life in her than I do. Its only a matter of time for us now."

Orchestra, though created a couple of years after Maestro, stepped off the same assembly line. In her prime she too had been brightly colored, but now while he had faded to a dark grey and black, she had turned a more light ash and white color.

She was the partner of his best friend Chord, who died in one of the Great Cybertronian wars. His final wish was that Maestro should take care of her for as long as he or she lived. That wish Maestro had fulfilled. She currently lived next door to him in a much smaller and less grander residence.

"So you will keep it a secret from her?" Freeflow asked him. "How?"

"I never said I was going to keep anything from her. I will tell her tomorrow," Maestro replied. He stood up and placed a few extra credits on the counter. "I would prefer it if the whole of Polyhex did not know about my plans even before I begin planning."

Freeflow smiled wryly as he subspaced the chips. "They wont hear it from me, you can count on that."

"Yes, I'll bet I can."

Maestro headed to the doors and stepped out into the cool Cybertron night. He looked up at the faintly twinkling stars for a moment.

"Yes," he murmured. "He shall be a star too."

Then he slowly turned away and began the walk back to his home.


	2. Orchestra

**Orchestra**

His home was a mess of datapads and paper-thin sheets of metal that were covered in designs, sketches and scribblings that lay scattered all over the floor and furniture. Orchestra shook her head and shut the door behind her before walking up to the table where Maestro was seated and writing something furiously on a metal sheet.

"Haven't you had any rest at all?" she asked in the melodious voice of an alto.

"I had a few hours of shut down earlier," Maestro replied, his voice a deep tenor. "But creativity would not let me lie idle for much longer."

"What exactly is it that you are trying to create?"

"Life," Maestro said simply.

Even without turning around he could feel Orchestra's piercing, blue-opticked gaze on his back.

"May I ask when this moment of inspiration came about?" she asked.

"At the pub last night, over a few shots of high grade energon." He turned round to face her. "And before you call me crazy, insane, lunatic, or whatever, hear me out." He stood up. "Yesterday I was forced to retire from my job at the Academy for the plain and simple reason that nobody wants to learn from me anymore. No one wants to learn music. Orchestra, don't you see? If we don't find a way, once we're gone, there'll be no more music on Cybertron. No more music will mean no more songs, dancing, art and theatre – nothing. The Arts will die with us."

"I think it's a good idea Maestro," Orchestra said.

Maestro's eyebrow ridges raised slightly. "You do?"

"Of course. You forget sometimes Maestro, that I was created for music just like you. Music runs in my energon flow as it runs in yours."

"So you'll help me?"

Orchestra shook her head. "No. It's a good idea Maestro, but we are not engineers. We create music yes, but we cant create life. Nor do we have the money to pay any of the engineers to create for us, not even you. We wouldn't even know where to start."

"We start at the beginning." Maestro took her hand in his. "I don't want to do this alone Orchestra."

She gently pulled her hand away. "This time you'll have to Maestro. I cant help you. I'm sorry. Its too big a project for me. And I don't want to put my spark and core into creating something that I'll end up loving only to lose him all over again. Losing Chord was already painful for me, don't make me go through it again."

"What do you mean?"

"War is coming. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or next week, but it is coming. There are rumors of a new evil power rising in the south and east and there's already been some fighting in the south. Its only a matter of time before it reaches the northern and western territories. We may not live to see full-fledged war again, but if you create new life now, you will be leaving him defenseless against whatever force is approaching.

She reached up and touched his face. "There is no place in war for music Maestro. Let it go; let it die or fade away. You've tried your best to save it, but it cant be saved – not anymore. There's nothing else you can do. Let it go."

Then she turned away and left. Maestro watched her walk out the door, her white form blending into the gold of the city as it shone in the day's light. He turned back to his desk and in one swift motion, swept his arm across it, sending datapads and other various objects shattering and crashing to the floor. He picked up the metal sheets and ripped each into pieces, destroying more datapads as he stomped down on them.

When he had finally cleared his home of all evidence of his project, he sat down on his bare sofa and buried his head in his hands. He felt miserable, but he could not cry. His creators had not instilled that show of emotion in him. Who was he kidding? His creators had instilled almost no emotions in him, he had learned them on his own, as few as they were and as basic. Infact, the only way he knew how to express his emotions was in music.

His creators considered emotions a weakness, an indication of inferior quality. So if emotions were reflected in music, then Orchestra was right – music had no place in war.

But emotions were what drove them to rebel and fight the war in the past – and win. Emotions that were packaged in music, music that stirred the sentient feelings within all the robots at that time. If that was the case, then music was a strength – one that they all needed if war was to come again.

Maestro raised his head and reached for a clean sheet of clear steel. He pulled out a laser engraver and then began to draw anew. There was still a small ounce of hope left, and as long as that lasted, he was not going to let anything go.

* * *

A/N: This was the first time for me playing with Original Characters in fact, and i'm happy to say that Maestro was one of the few that grew in character and personality as the story progressed.


	3. Ferronix

**Ferronix**

One week later the residents of Maestro's neighborhood awoke to a rude shock. The old robot had sold his beautiful home to an upper class 'family' from Iacon and was moving to the more rural, backlot town of Ferronix where he had purchased a small dwelling along the outskirts. He was leaving almost everything behind – mainly furniture – taking only a stack of metal sheets and datapads, and a few other essential items.

Orchestra ran up to him as he stood outside his old home obviously waiting for someone or something to come along.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, almost demanded.

"A very good morning to you too," Maestro replied.

"Can the jokes alright. What do you think you're doing! I haven't seen you step outside for almost a week and now suddenly you're going away! Why!"

"I need the money," Maestro said simply.

"Money? You have money! Enough to last you till you die."

"But not enough for what I plan to do. I thought about what you said that day and came to the conclusion that you were wrong. As long as there is life, music will always be a part of it – as an escape, as motivation, as comfort. Music is the heart and soul of life Orchestra. I thought I could count on you of all people to understand that. Without music, without the Arts, what are we but the mindless, empty, metallic shells we were created to be? Nothing but emotionless drones. What you said to me goes against everything we ever fought that war for."

"So you're just going to drop everything and leave all you've ever known to go off and create a new robot that you don't even know will work?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. I kept my promise to Chord, I looked after you all these years. But you don't need my protection anymore."

A small green truck rounded the corner and began to head towards them.

"Goodbye Orchestra. If you ever change your mind, look for me in Ferronix."

Saying that, Maestro loaded his few things into the back truck section, got into the cab and drove off. He sighed. He hated conflict of any kind, especially between friends, but sometimes there was nothing for it. He crossed his arms over his chest and began to hum a tune to himself. There was no need for him to drive. The truck was one of those Transformers. The transport company he had contacted had sent him because he was the only one willing to go into Ferronix.

"That's quite a nice tune you got there," a voice said and Maestro figured the robot could still talk while in alt mode. "What's it called?"

"Nothing really. It was just a random melody."

"Ah I see. Sounds lovely though."

"Thank you." Maestro frowned then. "Your voice sounds somewhat familiar. Have we met before?"

"I was just going to ask you that. Say, aren't you that old geezer from Freeflow's bar? The one who was sitting there and trying to overcharge his systems?"

"Geezer? Look who's talking. Yes I remember you now. You're the old guy from the South aren't you?"

"Levatron to be exact. Beautiful city, or at least it was."

"Was? What happened? Why did you leave?"

"Fighting. A bunch of turbo-rabid young punks strolled in there and started causing trouble. Said they want to take over the place. Over my rusting carcass. And I didn't leave. I came up to Polyhex to get some fuel and supplies. Needed some extra credits so I went over to the transport company to see if anyone needed a lift along the way. They tell me some mech needs a ride into Ferronix."

"Which was me I'm guessing."

"Yeah. And by way of introduction, the name's Pickup."

"I'm Maestro."

"Well Maestro, if I may ask you the same question you asked me, what's a gentlemech like you from Polyhex doing moving in with the riff-raff in Ferronix?"

"I needed the money."

"Pardon me for saying this, but you looked like you already had enough to last you for the rest of your existence. Folk in Polyhex usually do."

"Its not enough for what I have to do."

"What's that?"

"You said it yourself in the bar that night."

Pickup nearly braked to a halt, but recovered in time so that he didn't alter his speed. "You're going to create your own robots?"

"Robot. I need only one."

"Heh, well if that doesn't take the oil cake. Do you have any idea of what you're getting in to?"

"Not really. If I did I don't think I'd have the courage to go through with it."

"Now there's something you don't hear everyday. We could use a few of you old-timers down at Levatron."

Maestro stroked his chin. "Since you brought up Levatron again, tell me about these trouble-making robots. Why are they causing trouble?"

"Like I said, they want to take over the place. Some of 'em even bragging that they're going to take over the whole of Cybertron some day, can you believe the circuits?" If Pickup had been in robot form he would have been shaking his head. "Some of them are claiming descent from the old military hardware robots that occupied Cybertron when the planet was still young. Got too much high-grade energon clogging their brain components if you ask me. They'll never be able to take Levatron, let alone the whole of Cybertron."

"So there's no reason for us to worry?"

"Well, places like Iacon and Polyhex needn't worry. All them decent, upper-class, well-to-do folks there with their sophisticated technology. You however, now you're going to Ferronix. Folks there don't take too kindly to out-of-town mechs coming in, especially those from Iacon and Polyhex. If I were you I'd keep a low profile and not mention where you're from unless absolutely necessary."

"I'll remember that. Thanks for the advice."

It took longer to reach Ferronix than Maestro had expected – a little over two weeks to be exact – and that was including all the short cuts Pickup used. Still at least he wasn't bored. Freeflow had been right. Pickup did know how to tell a story, and Maestro found them highly entertaining. Finally one day…

"We're almost there," Pickup announced.

Maestro looked out through the glass as Pickup drove through the streets. If Polyhex's pristine neighborhoods were considered to be a form of heaven, then the town of Ferronix was the proverbial hell.

Most of the buildings lacked any color, having been reduced to various shades of black and grey. Much like himself, he thought wryly. Some were in various stages of destruction, ranging from cracks running up the walls to others with actual pieces of the walls missing. Few lights shone from within these buildings. Fires sprang up at regular intervals along the streets – mainly in the alleys.

Many of the robots too were not as well-preserved as their Polyhex counterparts. Some were gathered around the fires heating canisters of energon, while others lay sprawled along the roadsides, too weak to be of much use to anyone. For a moment Maestro wondered if he wanted to bring a young, innocent robot into… this.

"Its like they never moved on after the First Great War," he said. "I remember many of the towns looked like this.'

"They didn't," Pickup said. "They tried to, but they didn't have the funds. But don't let appearances discourage you. Ferronixians may not like upstart rich folk coming in and trying to show off their airs, but some of them are an honest bunch of bots you'll never find anywhere else – not even in Iacon. I've met a few of them down in Levatron."

Two days later the truck rounded a bend into the south-western district and after a short drive through the neighborhood, he came to a halt. "Here we are."

Maestro got out of the cab and gathered his things, allowing Pickup to transform to his robot mode. Both of them looked at Maestro's new residence.

It was a relatively small house, made of the same material as much of the other buildings in Ferronix, and much like them, had faded to a dull black color. It was located outside the main Ferronix area and there was a lot of empty land between it and the next dwelling.

"Look on the bright side," Pickup said. "At least you wont have pesky neighbors snooping around and trying to find out what you're doing."

"I just hope the place isn't going to fall down as soon as I push the door open," Maestro said.

"Only one way to find out pal."

But as shoddy as it looked from the outside, it was really quite firm and solid. It had a total of one room as you entered, and two rooms beyond that. To his surprise, Maestro found that he actually liked the place. It was even sparsely furnished.

"Well it works for me," he said after a while.

"That's good to hear," Pickup replied, "'Cause I've got to be on my way now."

Maestro walked him outside. "How much do I owe you?"

"Y'know what," Pickup faced him. "Keep your credits. Its on me and Primus knows you need the money more than I do. You just make that new robot and hopefully when you do I'll still be around to meet him."

"It's a deal Pickup, thank you," Maestro replied.

"Don't mention it." Pickup transformed back to his vehicle mode. "Good luck." He drove off.

Maestro watched him till he faded away into the distance, then went back into his new home. It was time to get started.

He spent the rest of that day, and the whole of the next adapting the house to his own needs. The large table that had occupied the front room was pushed to into one of the smaller rooms to serve as the platform on which he would create his new robot. All his drawings and designs were stuck up on the wall for reference. The other little room he took as his own quarters.

It was then he realized that to start building his robot, he was going to have to get all the equipment, in addition to a couple of recharge berths. Habit almost made him put out a call for a couple of engineers and mechanics to come in and install everything for him, before he realized that this was Ferronix and not Polyhex, and if he wanted anything done, he was going to have to do it himself.

So on the second day after his arrival, Maestro headed out into the main district of Ferronix on foot. And as he walked the streets he knew that, despite his coloration almost matching that of the city, he was probably the oldest mech many of the inhabitants had ever seen. In fact, as he passed the various groups of robots who were gathered on the streets, his audios often picked up words that sounded a lot like 'old geezer'. He also came to the startling realization that many, if not all, of Ferronix's residents were Transformers.

At last he turned into a doorway that led to what he thought looked like an equipment store. He went up to the bot at the counter.

"Do you sell recharge berths here?" he asked.

The bot made a noise that sounded like a grunt and inclined his head to the far wall on his right. Maestro saw a stack of old recharge bunks piled on top of each other. Not exactly what he had in mind, but they would have to do.

"How much for two of them?"

The mech gave him a quick once-over. "Fifteen credits for each of them."

"Very well." Maestro paid him.

After storing the money carefully in a box, the bot stood up and came out from behind the counter.

"So what kind of transformation do you have?" he asked. "Gotta know whether I can load these on you or have you tow them."

"Oh, I'm not a Transformer," Maestro replied.

The bot stared at him incredulously for a moment.

"I was created a long time ago, before transforming was even heard of," Maestro explained.

The bot disappeared into the back without a word and for a minute Maestro wondered if he had scared him off, but he came out a few moments later pushing a trolley in front of him onto which he loaded two recharge berths. Then he wheeled it over to Maestro.

"You can use this," he said. "As long as you can promise you'll bring it back here tomorrow because if my boss finds out he'll fire me for sure. I'm only giving this to you because I've heard the stories that the robots who fought in the first great wars were honorable."

"It'll be back here first thing in the morning," Maestro assured him.

Getting the rechargers from the store back to the house was quite an event, not only for Maestro, but for many of the robots who stopped to stare. They obviously didn't see this type of thing everyday. He was glad when at last the town was behind him and his own home ahead.

* * *

Never said building a new Transformer from scratch was easy...

Maestro's not one to call it quits just because other people dont see things his way... count on that... and Pickup is canon by the way.. can anyone guess who he is?


	4. Pickup

**Pickup**

The weeks that followed were not exactly the easiest for him either, especially at his age, but true to his programming, once he started on something he would see it through to the end. The first hurdle was getting all the equipment he needed before he could start putting even two pieces of his robot together. His search took him into the furthest regions of Ferronix – places that were not all that pleasant, and sometimes he was away for days, but he had no choice.

The locals said he was crazy to have dealings with the residents of that area. Maestro figured he had to be a little crazy if he wanted to get anything accomplished. Folk in the old days had called the rebellion crazy too, he remembered.

Slowly, the room that he had set aside to be his laboratory of sorts, began to fill up with all the equipment he needed. He still had no idea how he was going to put everything together, but decided to go with his instincts. They had served him well in the past, they wouldn't let him down now when he needed them most.

It was this never-give-up nature of his that began to earn him some begrudged respect from the populace of Ferronix; and inspite of themselves, some of them even took a liking to this crazy old robot, and got used to him coming up to them with some unusual request or another. They never knew what exactly he was creating, but the idea that he was creating SOMETHING was enough to motivate them to help him get said unusual requests granted.

And as weeks turned into months, he finally earned himself a few friends – the first of them being the young bot he'd met at the equipment store the day after he'd arrived in Ferronix.

The bot's name was Bronze, named after the burnished brown-gold coloration of his armor. He was, in fact, an up and coming mechanic who salvaged a lot of old, broken junk and repaired them into some sort of working order, and re-sold them at a lower price. The store was, in truth, his; and as Maestro found out later, ha had made up the story about him having a boss just so Maestro would assuredly bring his trolley back.

Maestro became his most frequent customer. The fact that the old mech had so much faith in his secondhand equipment made Bronze offer to transport and help him install all of it for free. It was only natural that over time the two became good friends, and it was then that Maestro told him of his project to create a new robot. Bronze immediately offered to help in any way he could.

Finally the day arrived when Maestro could at last look into his lab and know that within its walls he was capable of creating life. He was in fact ready to start work the next day on building the outer structure of his robot once Bronze brought in all the metal he needed. He decided to head down to a bar that evening and indulge himself in a nice big tankard of rich energon for at least coming this far.

Everything in Ferronix was in stark contrast to that of Polyhex, and its bars and patrons were no exceptions. Where in Polyhex folk came to bars to socialize with their fellows after a day's work and drink to one another's health, in Ferronix bots came to bars to be alone, to escape the mundane routine of their everyday existences and drown their sorrows and problems in one pathetic canister of high-grade energon. Such was the existence, Maestro suddenly realized, when one did not have alternatives to turn to – like music.

With that in mind he pushed open the door and entered The Cube, Ferronix's most decent bar. He went straight over to the counter, sat himself on one of the old stools and ordered himself a pint of regular energon. It was only after he'd taken a few sips that he looked around at the bar and its patrons and spotted a familiar face seated alone at a table. He lowered himself off the stool, picked up his tankard and went over to the other bot.

"Hey there Pickup! Didn't know you were back in Ferronix," he said. "Why didn't you look me up?"

Pickup raised his head and the look on his face made Maestro think that someone had come along and dumped 10 extra years on him. Pickup looked worn, and his aqua-green paint looked duller than Maestro recalled seeing it in Polyhex. He thought it was the bar's lighting at first, but lighting could not produce the scorch marks he saw on Pickup's limbs and torso.

Pickup studied him for a few seconds. "Ah yes, that crazy old guy from Polyhex. Been almost 6 months since I last saw you. Maestro isn't it?"

"The one and only," Maestro replied and sat down opposite him after Pickup gestured to him to have a seat. "What happened to you old friend? When did you get to Ferronix?"

"This afternoon." Pickup took another swig from his diminishing canister of energon. "Remember those young punks I told you about? I think I underestimated them greatly lad, many of us did. Levatron might fall because of our folly. They launched a full out assault a couple of days ago, wrecked half the city and killed a number of mechs. They've got this commander now, slagging powerful guy, took out half the bots in one area. So I came up here to get some help. Levatron and Ferronix have always helped each other out in the past."

"I'm sorry to hear about this Pickup," Maestro sympathized, not knowing what else to say.

"Sorry? No don't feel sorry." Pickup paused for a moment as if trying to remember something. "You were creating a new robot weren't you? How's that coming?"

"Considerably well. I'm going to start building him tomorrow."

"Then do the kid a favor and make him a Transformer. Whether we win or lose at Levatron, times are changing and things are going to get worse before they get better. But whatever new race of robots comes next, you can rest assured they'll be created for some type of warfare or another. And as you know very well, in a war, a disguise is crucial. Give him that ability Maestro if you really want this mech to survive."

They went on to talk about a few other things after that, but Maestro's mind could think of nothing else than the fact that, again, maybe he'd made a mistake. More than once he'd gripped his tankard of energon hard so as to prevent himself from jumping up, running back to his house and pulling the plug on everything. Again and again he asked himself if it was worth it.

There were so many questions, so many doubts, so many risks. War was not a thing to be taken lightly. There was no point in creating a robot if the poor mechanism was going to be blown away by the first hit of a laser rifle, and too often he had seen that happen before. The first casualties of war were often civilians.

* * *

A/N: well done all.. Pickup is indeed Kup, our fave old-timer. Sorry for the short chapter. next one will be considerably longer, promise!

Owlman: sorry, no gangleader and Ultratron in this fic.

Shades: rich people arent always the most honest ;)


	5. Bolt

**Bolt**

XXX-FLASHBACK-XXX

Bolt was a very young robot, only a couple of years old, who had been created for the sole purpose of packaging the many various items the rest of the consumer goods' robots made. But Maestro liked him. Unlike most of the others who sometimes acted as if they were nothing more than mindless drones, Bolt showed at least a small measure of spirit. One of the signs was that, despite being created for a specific task and purpose, he took a liking to another. Bolt liked music. From the minute he heard the first note he was hooked.

He would often try and finish his day's work as fast as he possibly could so that he could run over and watch Maestro and the others create a variety of new melodies and harmonies. And Maestro, seeing the young bot's eagerness and curiosity, began to teach him a few basic skills, much to the displeasure of the other musicians. They feared that should someone catch Bolt amongst them they would all by punished and melted down to slag.

But Maestro cherished having an apprentice as such, to teach and educate, because before Bolt came along he had been virtually alone.

His closest friends were Chord and Orchestra, but they had soon found each other and had chosen to become partners – another thing that was frowned upon as it was forbidden for one robot to have emotional connections to another. It made them inefficient workers.

Deep down though, Maestro knew all that was about to change. The stronger robots – the military hardware, and the engineers, mechanics, weapons manufacturers and security personnel of the consumer goods – were beginning a rebellion. And it was growing by the day. Maestro hoped there would soon come a day where all of the Automated Robots – military and consumer alike – could do and think and feel for themselves, without having to be always told how they should act and react.

To spread the word along, those in the rebellion turned to the musicians so that their messages could be encoded in secret within the music. Maestro, Chord and Orchestra had readily agreed and they managed to convince the others. Bolt became the messenger, ferrying the messages from the warriors to the musicians to be encoded.

In return, the stronger robots offered to train the artistes and entertainers in basic combat as they were the weaker group. Once war broke out, they would be in charge of the defense of those robots who either wouldn't or couldn't fight.

And war did break out. Nothing Maestro imagined could have prepared him for it. The warrior robots were trying to bring down the giant robots that those who revered them called 'guardians' and those who feared them called 'sentinels'. Maestro and his kind, including Bolt, were given the task of shepherding the non-combatant robots to safety. He risked a pause in his duty to see how the offense was faring.

One-third of the group he'd seen begin the attack was missing, most likely dead. The rest of the group was being forced to retreat from the intense fire-power of the behemoths.

"They need more fighters," Chord said from his right side.

"They have none," Maestro replied.

"Yes they do! Us! The civilians are almost evacuated, they need our help."

Maestro grabbed his arm to keep him from running directly into the battle. "We're defenders Chord, not warriors. We cant fight like they can."

"We have to TRY Maestro. Are you with me?"

Maestro took one look at Chord, then looked back at the defenders. "Orchestra! Bolt! Keep evacuating the civilians and get them to safety. Chord and I are going to help the warriors!"

Both of them began to run to where the main bulk of the rebellion were fighting, pulling out their weapons as they ran. Chord may have been a few years younger than him, but Maestro was a more skilled fighter. Had he wanted to, he could have been a great warrior, just as good as the stronger consumer goods robots.

The ground shook with the rumble of the giant sentinel robots lumbering forward. The noise of the fire-power was almost deafening. Maestro stopped firing suddenly and began to break away. His audio sensors, more finely tuned than any of the other robots' from many centuries of honing his musical creations, picked up the sound of something else approaching the battle – something big.

A look at Chord told him that the other musician had heard it too. They knew unmistakably another sentinel had been dispatched. And it was coming for the defenders.

Chord grabbed Maestro's arm. "Get them out of there! One of us has to and your skills are more needed there than here. Don't forget Bolt and… Orchestra. Incase I don't see her again, tell her I love her, and take care of her Maestro." He gave the older robot a light shove. "Now go!"

Maestro looked at his best friend a moment longer. "Be safe," he said, and ran.

A third sentinel appeared behind the defenders and civilians.

"The shelters!" Maestro yelled, straining his vocalizers to be heard above the racket. "Get them to the shelters!"

The group began to run for it. Maestro altered his speed and direction so that he could fall in line with them as they fled. A blast from the sentinel's powerful laser took out the stragglers and a few of the defenders who had hung back to protect them. Maestro realized that as long as their flank remained exposed, the sentinel could eradicate them row by row. Orchestra joined him.

"Where is Chord?" she asked.

"Fighting with the warriors," Maestro replied. "Orchestra listen to me. I need you and the other defender-femmes to keep herding the civilians to the shelters while the remaining bots and I try to hold this thing back. If things go ill with us, you will be the last line of defense, do you understand me?"

"I understand. Do what you have to Maestro. Femmes! Spread out and encircle! Keep moving towards the shelter!"

"Defender-bots summon weapons!" Maestro called. "Form ranks!" He stopped running. "Turn and return fire!"

From the corner of his optic he glimpsed Bolt falling into place a few paces in front of him. The defenders began firing round after round of lasers at the giant. It slowed the thing down for the last of the civilians to run past them, but they couldn't stop it. Maestro heard an order from the warriors' group to retreat.

"Fall back!" he commanded his own robots.

The sentinel released a second round of its own lasers that blasted the ground right in front of Maestro. He shielded his optics from the bright flare and when he looked again, a third of the defenders were gone. The warriors had almost reached them, the first two sentinels close behind, picking off those who fell behind.

"Defenders scatter!" Maestro called. "Make for the shelters!"

As he ran, he tried desperately to spot Chord and Bolt, but he could see no sign of them, and before he knew it they had reached the tunnels that led to the secret underground shelters they had constructed for just such a situation. The sentinels could not follow.

Many hours later, Maestro and a few others went back to the surface to search for survivors. It proved futile. Most had been killed instantly and most of those that were still functioning were beyond repair. Only a dozen or so could be saved. Chord was among the dead and Maestro mourned him deeply, wondering how on Cybertron he was going to break the news to Orchestra.

"Maestro?" It was a mech he had not seen before. "There's a young bot over there." He pointed to his right. "He's asking for you."

Maestro thanked him, stood up and went over. The young bot was Bolt, lying on the cold metal ground, half his exo-structure missing, the other half melted and blackened. He looked up as Maestro crouched beside him and his lip components curved into a small smile.

"Maestro," he rasped, his vocalizers obviously damaged.

"Bolt, what happened?"

"Chord… was in trouble… tried… to help him… failed…. Sentinel… got us both… I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. You fought bravely. You both did. You will be remembered, along with everyone else who died today. Cybertron will remember you."

"So… I'm going… going to… die?"

Maestro saw no point in lying. "Yes."

"That's good…. Would hate… to… live like… this." He tried to laugh. "Will you… do… two things… for me?"

"Just name it Bolt."

"Win… this war and… free Cybertron…. Second…" The light in his blue optics began to go out. "Second… you must… save music… for those… who will come after."

"I'll try my best Bolt. I promise you, music will not die."

Bolt clutched Maestro's arm with a half blown-off hand. "Thank… you… Maestro."

XXX-END FLASHBACK-XXX

"Maestro?" Pickup tapped the old mech's arm, snapping him back to the present. "Maestro are you with me?"

"Oh yes, yes I'm here. I was just thinking about what you said about Transforming. How do I go about something like that?"

"Beats me. I suppose you need to study a Transformer to find out. I'd offer my services but I'm heading back to Levatron tomorrow morning with some re-enforcements."

"Then we should probably leave and get some rest. I need to go home and do some serious thinking."

They stood up and quietly exited the bar together. Outside, they wished each other well, said their goodbyes and parted ways. That was the last Maestro ever saw of Pickup.

* * *

A/N: this was more of a continuation of Chapter 4, than a new chapter in itself... but i needed focus on the flashback to show a little more motivation for Maestro to want to build a new life... 


	6. Bronze

**Bronze**

Maestro stayed up the rest of the night, right through till the following morning, trying to write out a program for his robot. He remembered the young robot Bolt. He may have survived that day if he'd had sufficient training for the war that was to come. The reason they lost that day was because none of them had any previous experience in fighting a war, that Maestro had now.

He had remained a defender till the robots eventually won, but he could fight just as well as any of the offensive. Or at least he used to be able to. So yes, he had the experience, which was what was nagging at his thoughts.

When Bronze entered the house with most of the materials Maestro would need to build his robot, he found the old mech seated in the front room, bent over a datapad, looking very tired.

"Maestro, haven't you had any rest at all?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," he replied. "I learnt something last night that has me a little disturbed. I don't know if I want to go through with this Bronze."

"What! But you've come this far! You've done all this work. You cant give up now!"

"I don't want to create a life only to have it all taken from me in a couple of years." Maestro told him about the First Great Wars and about how he had lost both Chord and Bolt. "And war is coming again Bronze."

"What about your promise to Bolt? You said you would try. If you give up now, you haven't tried. You'd break your promise and music will die."

"My robot will die when a war breaks out."

"Not if you build him and program him to survive."

"I am not creating him as a soldier where all he will know is to fight, and all he will be is cannon fodder."

Bronze took the datapad away and sat down directly in front of the old robot.

"Create him for your original purpose – to keep music alive, but give him an edge. Make him adaptable. Adaptability was what made the musicians of the old days different from all the other consumer goods wasn't it? You had to keep adapting to create music as it changed over the years. You were the only ones programmed to adapt weren't you? That's why you were made to be physically weaker than the other consumer goods."

"Well, you've done good research, I'll give you that."

"Don't give up on this Maestro. Don't give up on him." Bronze pointed to all the sheets of metal and internal parts he had brought with him. "At least give him a chance."

"A fighting chance is that it?" Maestro asked, as suddenly it all began to come together. "I know how to create this robot. And he's going to be one of the greatest robots to have ever existed on Cybertron. Come, help me bring all this into the lab and I will show you what I am going to do. And I will need your help."

Bronze followed the rejuvenated old mech into the lab, a mixture of nervousness and excitement, wondering what on Cybertron he was going to build.

Over the next few weeks Bronze spent his time lying on the floor, most of his exo-structure carefully removed, so that Maestro could have a good knowledge of the internal workings of a Transformer, which he would adapt for his own robot.

"He shall have all the physical abilities of a Transformer," Maestro said. "Strength, speed, stealth, all in equal parts so that neither one will be greater than the other." He welded together another set of wires and circuits that formed the robot's fingers. "You see, too much strength compromises his speed – if he's too big, he cannot move as fast. Too much speed compromises his stealth – he cannot move extremely fast and extremely quietly at the same time. And too much stealth will compromise his strength – stealth requires one to be small and light, so as not to make much sound."

Bronze nodded in understanding as the robot began to take on some physical shape in terms of hands and feet. Rather cute feet, as Bronze pointed out.

Maestro nodded. "Like Bolt's. Everyone used to tell him how cute his feet were."

"His hands and fingers look rather delicate don't they?"

"Don't let appearances fool you. Chord's hands were like that. He could pick up a turbo-moth unharmed on his finger, but those same hands could punch through a wall or turn a simple tool into a deadly airborne weapon."

As weeks progressed into months, Bronze watched as the new robot began to take on a shape and form of its own. The feet extended into legs, the hands into arms, and each limb then became attached to a body and the body extended into a neck. Maestro had still not constructed the head however, because he had yet to install the fully programmed brain and central processing unit. For days he sat at his computer encoding the specific program he wanted to give the young mech.

"The skills of a warrior among other things," Maestro told Bronze when the younger bot had asked what type of program he wanted. "But hopefully there will never come a time when he has to rely on those skills to fight a war. In addition he needs quick wits and a high level of intelligence, but not too high that it will dampen his emotions. Like all musicians he needs sharp audios and good optics. And like you said, one of the most important traits: adaptability."


	7. Wheeljack

**Wheeljack**

About three months after Maestro had started building the robot, he was almost finished. Bronze had left temporarily to one of the other cities on a spot of business and would not be back for some time, so Maestro was left to construct the robot's face and head alone. The face was one of the things Maestro thought long and hard about. He decided he wanted an open, expressive face, one that could convey emotions – none of those face-masks or mouth-pieces that covered half his face.

He wanted a mouth that was quick to smile and laugh, and optics that were bright and would reflect that mirth. Overall he wanted a pleasant, optimistic face where, even if it expressed sadness or anger, one could still look at it and see hope and forgiveness.

All Maestro needed now, to complete the external construction, was a suitable head-piece cum helmet – the one object he did not have in his supply of parts. With a sigh he realized he would have to go out and look for something suitable that he could use.

He set out the next day, after securely locking and barricading his home against prying optics. He scoured much of the entire district until he finally found himself in the west sector. After a lot of walking around, he finally approached what he hoped was a spare-parts shop. As he neared, a small explosion rocked the store and smoke poured out of one of the back windows.

Maestro rushed inside to see if anyone was hurt. He was just in time to see a fairly old mech storm into a back room muttering a string of Cybertronian expletives, some of which made Maestro cringe. Then a voice that Maestro guessed was the old mech's yelled out.

"What in the unholy PIT did you do THIS time!"

A much younger voice tried to respond with some sort of explanation, but was cut off.

"You WHAT! How many slagging TIMES have I TOLD you that I took you in for the sole purpose of sorting out all this junk into what can be re-sold and what has to be smelted down! NOT to attempt to build miniature bombs out of chronometers and discarded energon cans!"

Again the younger voice, one that Maestro found he liked, tried to reason only to be abruptly cut off again.

"I don't CARE about your experiments. When are you going to get it into that short-circuiting CPU of yours that you are not much more than junk yourself! You will never be good enough to be an engineer so stop wasting my time and just do the job I brought you in to do!"

Maestro felt incredibly bad that he had stayed around to hear all of it and decided he had better leave and try somewhere else. He had just turned to go when he heard a door slam shut and footsteps in the room behind him; and the young voice spoke out softly.

"Can I help you with anything?"

Maestro turned back and laid optics on the most unusual robot he had ever seen.

"Pardon?" he asked.

The young robot came up to him. "My name's Wheeljack. I was told to come in here and see if you needed any help."

The robot had no mouth as far as Maestro could see. Instead, two little panels on either side of his head flashed bright blue as he spoke.

"Does he always talk to you like that?" Maestro asked.

Wheeljack glanced at the door. "Yeah. He aint too fond of the fact that the robot he thought to be nothing more than a drone wound up having a mind of its own and went out and got itself rebuilt into a Transformer. I'm sorry you had to hear all that though."

"I'm sorry I stayed around to listen."

"Nah, aint your fault. This is a shop, well somewhat. Bots are supposed to come in here. So, what's your name?"

"My name's Maestro."

"Maestro? Hey I've read about you. You're one of the heroes of the First Great Wars aren't you?"

"I wasn't really much of a hero. I was just a defender. My job was mainly to stay behind and protect the non-combatants."

"Well, protecting the innocent is just as noble as running out to attack the enemy. Don't think I'd have been brave enough to do something like that."

"I think you're pretty brave to stay on with this guy despite all the trash he keeps saying to you."

Wheeljack shrugged, obviously not much used to being praised often. "So what can I do for you Maestro?"

"Well I've created my own robot and all I'm missing right now is a helmet-type thing to go on his head."

"You made your own robot?" Wheeljack asked in awe. "That's amazing. Wish I knew who created me, and for what purpose."

Maestro heard the longing-of-acceptance tone in Wheeljack's voice and a pang of pity tugged at his core.

"I mean, there's gotta be something more to what I can do than just sorting out junk." Wheeljack said this more to himself.

Maestro picked up a large, black object and looked it over. It had probably been part of some sort of sphere originally, but now it had broken off and left a large cavity on one side – roughly the size of a robot's head.

"How much for this?" he asked Wheeljack.

The young bot came over and looked at it. "I cant charge you for this. It barely has any value and – ."

"Wheeljack, you need to do your job."

"But you're Maestro, you're a hero. I couldn't possibly – ."

"And this is your job Wheeljack. I am no more a hero than you will be some day, but you need to do your job for now."

"I don't think I'll ever be a hero, but how about you just take it for now and if it works for you, you can pay me what you think its worth."

"Wheeljack I don't know when I'll be able to come back down here again."

"Yeah, I know that. That's why I was hoping I could come with you now and uh… take a little peek at what you're doing? I've never seen anyone create a whole robot before."

"Wouldn't your boss yell at you for leaving the store?"

"Nah. He's probably getting acquainted with the high-grade energon he hides back there, that he thinks I don't know about. He wont miss me as long as I'm back before closing time."

Maestro smiled. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Wheeljack almost skipped outside. Once on the street he transformed into a little anti-grav vehicle and opened a back panel.

"Get in," he said.

"How did you know I couldn't transform?" Maestro asked as he climbed inside.

"I read a lot about the First Great Wars."

…Once securely locked inside Maestro's little home, Wheeljack followed him into the lab. His optics widened at all the equipment.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" he asked.

"Ferronix has a lot of spare-parts shops," Maestro replied as he placed the black object over a block of metal and drew out a laser scalpel.

"This is so amazing."

"I heard your boss say something about you wanting to be an engineer." Maestro began to cut and shape the cavity.

"That's what I want to be in the future. A really good engineer who can invent just about anything. Maybe even someday build my own robots. But its probably all just a stupid dream."

"Dreams can come true, if you keep believing in yourself and work towards making those dreams a reality. The automated robots of the War dreamed of making Cybertron a free planet someday, and look where we are now."

"Do you believe I can do it?"

Maestro began to give the spheroid a more symmetrical shape. "I believe that the only limit to what you can achieve is yourself."

Wheeljack's optics lit up and Maestro guessed he was smiling, grinning even. He cut a rim and two cheek-guards on the front of the 'helmet'. Finally he cut away a damaged portion of the top and was left with two little juts that stuck out, which reminded him of horns.

"Oh dear," he said when he saw the result.

"I think it looks nice," Wheeljack said. "Gives him a kind of unique look."

"You really think so?"

"Of course. But uh… what about his spark and laser core? If you're gonna get them from Vector Sigma, you gotta have a key to access that thing 'cause I heard that the high-ups in Iacon locked it 'cause of the trouble in the South. And apparently there's only one robot that's got a key. Really old guy, also from the First War."

"I must be a really old guy too then, because I am one of the few left who also has a key."

"Oh! Well that's good. I mean uh… just be careful when you're going up there. Security's a bit tight I've heard… And I guess I should be getting back too."

"Of course. Thank you for coming Wheeljack." Maestro pressed some credits into his hand.

Wheeljack looked down in his palm and saw twenty credits. He looked back at Maestro. "Maestro no, this is… too much."

"You asked me to pay you what I thought it was worth. I did."

"You thought that thing was worth 20 credits?"

"I thought the bot who sold it to me deserved 20 credits. Use it wisely Wheeljack."

"Oh I will! Thank you so much!"

"You're very welcome. Now get going… and good luck."

"Same to you… and thanks again, really!"

Maestro shook his head as he heard the front door shut. "Youngsters."


	8. Vector Sigma

**Vector Sigma**

When Bronze returned a few days later, Maestro had completed all the work on the robot, right down to its paint job – which wasn't much. Just simple duotone.

"He looks great," Bronze said.

"He does," Maestro replied.

"But?"

"But he's still lifeless until we can get to Vector Sigma and give him a mind of his own."

"Its going to be tough. They've just upped the security in Iacon 'cause of all the fighting in the south. It'll be hard to get in."

"Hard but not impossible. I was around when they built Iacon. I know a few ways inside."

"You still need a key to activate Vector Sigma."

Maestro unsubspaced a diamond-shaped object that straightened out into a line at one end. "A reward for my services in the Great Wars. At the time it felt like 'how could this thing compensate for the lives of Chord, Bolt and the hundreds of other mechs and femmes who gave their lives to free our planet'. Now it might have some purpose after all."

"So we've got to take him all the way into Iacon?"

"He doesn't have to go anywhere. This key is unlike the others in that it can store energy and transfer it from one body to another. What I require from Vector Sigma will be stored in the key, after which, I will bring it back and transfer it to him."

"Any idea what you are going to call 'him' yet?"

"Not a clue."

"Well then," Bronze said, straightening himself. "What are we waiting for? Lets go get HIM a life."

The burnished mech led the way out of the little house and once outside, he transformed into his anti-grav truck form. Maestro climbed on and they set off for Iacon.

* * *

It was evening when they reached the outskirts of the great Autobot city, after miles of high-speed, non-stop driving, using all of Maestro's shortcuts, and still it had taken them a good three weeks. Iacon's brilliant gold lit up the darkening sky. Maestro stopped Bronze a few meters away from the main entrance.

"If security is as tight as you say it is then the main entrance is bound to be heavily guarded against outsiders. Turn right here. You'll soon come to a tunnel that we once used as a shelter against the sentinels. It has only a simple grating over it."

True to Maestro's word, they found it soon enough. Bronze transformed and helped the old mech pull up the grating. Then he stared down into the black hole, hesitating.

"What's the matter lad? Afraid of the dark?" Maestro asked.

"No. Its just… you guys used to live in these?"

"Once upon a time, yes. These tunnels were the one place where the sentinels could not follow us. It was from these very tunnels that the freedom of Cybertron was obtained." With that he jumped in. Bronze stared. Then Maestro's voice floated up. "Are you coming or not?"

Bronze sighed and jumped in after him, landing in a crouch when he hit the ground. Instinctively his infra-red sensors kicked in. the tunnel was narrow, low and smelled of old, stale oil. Initially Bronze felt like discharging the contents of his fuel banks.

"Steady lad, steady," Maestro said. "You'll get used to the smell soon enough. Now follow me quickly, we don't have time to waste."

The old bot started down the tunnel. Bronze tried to calm his circuits, and then followed, walking quickly so as not to lose sight of Maestro. The last thing he wanted was to get lost down here…. They walked through that underground maze for what seemed like days to Bronze.

"How do you know we're even going the right way?" he asked.

"When you rely on something for survival, you don't forget it," Maestro replied. "Quietly now, we're getting closer."

The tunnel began to go down even further and an amber glow began to fill the blackness. Both robots reverted back to normal vision. The tunnel opened into a wide chamber. Maestro carefully removed the grating and jumped down into the room. Bronze followed quickly, glad to be out of the tunnel for a while. Then his optics widened. Before him floated a glowing sphere of golden energy.

"Vector Sigma," said Maestro. "The super computer that gave us all life. I hope it can give life to one more."

He went up and slotted the key into the glowing orb. For a moment nothing happened, then the sphere rose higher and a voice boomed out. It made Bronze want to shrink back and blend in with the wall. Maestro stood firm.

"Who awakens Vector Sigma?"

"I do. My name is Maestro. I require a life-spark for a new robot."

"What would you have?"

"Compassion, understanding, love, truth, happiness and music."

The orb flared and a tendril of energy coiled around the key, disappearing into it. The orb returned to its normal state, but the key continued to glow.

"It is done."

The key dropped to the floor. Maestro picked it up and for a moment stared at the rainbow of colors that swirled within it. It was beautiful.

"Maestro, we've got to go. I think there's someone coming," Bronze called.

The two of them climbed back into the tunnel. Maestro had only just slipped the grating back into place when a door swooshed open and two guards walked in. both mechs hurried down the tunnel till they reached the opening once again.

"That was close," Bronze said as he pulled himself out of the hole after Maestro.

"Yes it was. Rather exciting too don't you think?" Maestro asked.

Bronze looked at him queerly, then transformed. "Let's get you back home."

* * *

It was late at night when they finally reached Maestro's residence, six weeks after they'd left. They quickly hurried inside to the lab and Maestro summoned the key. Bronze stood back as Maestro flipped a few switches and inserted the key into a computer that was connected to the robot. Golden energy flowed through the cable and encased its body. They watched as it slowly faded.

"Well, there we go. All I need to do now is wake him up.'

"In that case I'll leave you two alone," Bronze said. "Goodnight Maestro. And good luck."


	9. Jazz

A/N: well here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for...

* * *

**Jazz**

It was like waking up from a deep, dreamless sleep, where for a long while one felt nothing but a sense of never-ending darkness and empty space. But then, each of the five senses start returning one by one, and suddenly its not so empty and dark anymore. Because then the feeling is that the darkness is only like a blanket covering one's head and if it was pulled it off, there would be light again.

That was exactly how he felt as his senses came online, one by one. His sense of touch told him that he was lying on a cold, hard, metal surface. There were tubes and cables attached to various ports on his body feeding him oil and lubricants. The smell of the musty air told him that he was in a very small room. A warm, rich liquid poured into his mouth and he tasted energon for the first time.

His optics came online next and, as their protective lids came up, they confirmed that he was indeed in a very small room – and he wasn't alone either. There was another robot in the room, standing beside the table he lay on, watching him carefully. An old robot whose his optics still shone with a small spark of youth.

The old robot smiled down at him. A kind, welcoming smile it was too.

"Wake up Jazz," he said in a voice that was gentle and smooth like the purest of oils, yet firm like the toughest of steels.

The young robot sat up slowly and gazed around the room.

"Who's Jazz?" he asked. "And who are you?"

"Why, YOU are Jazz of course. And my name is Maestro. We are Autobots of the planet Cybertron." He began unhooking the tubes and cables, and closed the ports. "How do you feel?"

"Physically?" Jazz moved his arms and legs, and flexed his fingers, wrists, elbows and knees. "A bit stiff."

Maestro nodded. "Don't worry about that. You'll be alright once you start moving about. Now how does it feel up there?" He tapped his head.

"Confused," Jazz replied. "My brain's receiving all this information and its trying to sort things out, but I'm not sure what goes where. Its all a big mess in there right now."

"I see."

"And there are all these other feelings too. I don't know quite what to call them. Its not exactly information. Its more like… like…"

"Emotions?" Maestro supplied.

"Emotions?" Jazz echoed. "I don't understand."

"Do they feel like they come from deep within your laser core and make you want to react to them?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Good." Maestro smiled. "That's what separates us from other machines and drones. Sentience. Emotions. We have the ability to think and feel and to make decisions, to react to given situations. They help to communicate to others what you feel on the inside without the use of words. Like in your facial expressions, or the way you sit or stand. Sometimes even in the way we say certain things."

Jazz shifted to his side and let his legs hang off the edge of the table. "But how will I know which one to use where?"

"My dear bot, emotions are not something you can select whenever you want. Its not like picking out a piece of information and then applying it. Emotions are more like sub-conscious reactions to what you experience with your five senses. Like now for instance, what you're displaying – they're emotions."

Jazz sighed and shook his head slowly. "This is all just so much to take in."

The old robot nodded in understanding. "Well you've only been online for all of fifteen minutes. Don't try to understand everything at once. You have a whole life ahead of you to learn, and I will be here to guide you." He patted Jazz's arm. "Come now, lets get you up and about."

Somewhat hesitantly Jazz slid off the table. With his two feet firmly on the ground, he pushed himself to a standing position – and nearly fell over. He stumbled and Maestro caught him.

"Whoa, easy there," he said. "Take it slowly Jazz, there's no rush. Slow and steady. Give your equilibrium regulators a chance to catch up… Alright?"

Jazz nodded. "Yeah, I'm ok. I think I can do it now."

"Well lets not be too ambitious. Try and make it to the door and back a few times." Maestro pointed to the rectangular archway.

After a few uneasy steps where he tried to familiarize himself with his body, he soon grew in confidence and his steps grew faster and more determined.

"Very good," Maestro said as Jazz headed back to him a fifth time.

Jazz grinned. Then the young robot caught sight of his reflection on a wall panel and stopped to get a better look. His own bright blue optics stared back at him.

"So this is what I look like," he said.

Maestro joined him. "I hope its alright. It's a bit difficult to find colored paint around here so I did the best I could with what I had."

"I think it looks great. Black and white, very bold and direct." Jazz smiled at him. "I like it."

"I'm glad." Maestro put an arm around his shoulders. "But come, you've had enough excitement for your first day online. Back to sleep you go. Tomorrow the real work begins for both you and me."

"But I like being awake. It feels great to be able to talk and hear and see and smell and touch and move!"

"Talk yes, I can see you like to talk, but you can do all that tomorrow however, because rest is also important. You need to allow your systems to catch up with you and recover from the shock of suddenly coming online. Now please, get some sleep. You will see me in the morning, I promise you."

Reluctantly Jazz went over and hopped up on the table. Then, with a sigh, he lay back and began to power down. Maestro watched him as the light in his optics dimmed, indicating he was asleep.

"Primus watch over him," he said softly.

Then he turned, switched off the lights and headed out of the room.


	10. Transform!

**Transform**

Maestro spent the next 6 days teaching Jazz everything he knew, while in between, helping him convert his room into proper living quarters. The table and equipment were taken out and an old, but working recharge berth put in. Besides that, the room was bare. Jazz didn't mind however. To him it was cozy and comfortable, and above all, it was home. He and Maestro spent much of their time in there as opposed to the rest of the little house they lived in, mostly because that was where Jazz felt the most safe and at ease.

For the most part Maestro talked and Jazz listened, and soon the old robot realized that Jazz not only had the ability to talk and convince, he also had the talent of listening and understanding, before he opened his mouth to ask a question. So Maestro felt encouraged to tell him what he wanted to know.

On the 7th day Maestro took Jazz outside to let the young robot get a feel of the external environment. Jazz spent a good deal of time just gazing at everything his optics showed him, while Maestro stood back and waited patiently for the questions that were bound to come along soon. Sure enough Jazz looked at him.

"What am I looking at?" he asked. "I mean I know there's a city in front of me, and more beyond that, but why is each one sending a different light to the sky?"

"The city in front of you, the one we belong to, is Ferronix. The silvery light beyond comes from Dyacron. Further ahead and more to the west lies Iacon, and east Polyhex – my old hometown. After the First Great Wars, the ones I told you about, many of the cities began to develop at different paces – some faster than others, like Iacon and Polyhex. Some, like Ferronix, are still trying to catch up. Then there are those in the middle, like Dyacron."

"But why the different paces? It aint fair to leave poorer folk behind."

"No it isn't, but that is what power does to some. It makes them hunger for more, forgetting what is more important. Remember that young Jazz, for as you grow older, you will be faced with many choices like that. We're not perfect, but I trust you will make the right choice."

"I'll try my best," Jazz replied.

"Good. Now, I have given you yet another ability that I lack, one that I hope will be to your advantage. Transform."

Jazz stared at him. "What?"

"Transform. You can do it. Don't think, just try."

Half afraid, Jazz twisted his body and the next minute folded into a little hovercar. For a long while he just floated there.

"Wow," he said at last. "Now this is different. What do I do next?"

"Try moving around."

Jazz shot forward. "Whoa!"

"Slowly. Get the hang of it first."

"I'm trying! This aint easy!" He fishtailed, swerved, and narrowly avoided crashing into the side of the house. "Woohoo! Hey, this is kinda fun!"

"Yes, well try not to kill yourself," Maestro called.

Then through the comm-line Maestro heard something that made his core flare with happiness. Jazz was unconsciously humming a random tune as he drove around. The rev of another engine made Maestro look up.

"Jazz look out!" he called. "Stop or you'll crash!"

"I don't know how to stop!"

"Transform!"

Jazz managed to revert back to robot form. He hit the ground and slid under the burnished anti-grav truck. When he was clear, Bronze quickly transformed too.

"What are you trying to do!" he asked.

"Hey, no need to get all mad about it," Jazz replied. "I'm sorry I nearly rammed you, but I'm new at this. I haven't quite figured out how to stop yet, well besides sliding around on my skidplate. Heh, guess that's why they call it a skidplate." He grinned widely.

"Who on Cybertron do you think you are, and what are you even doing here? This is private property."

"Hey, I live here. The name's Jazz." He held out his hand. "And since you're the stranger now, who might you be?"

"The name's Bronze." He shook the other robot's hand. "You seem somewhat familiar now that I get a closer look."

"He should Bronze," Maestro said, coming up. "You had a hand in his construction."

Bronze's optics widened. "This is your creation?"

"The one and only."

"He seems so different. I got so used to seeing him as just an empty black and white husk."

"Well the black and white husk is standing right here and he can speak, so, hey!" Jazz retorted.

"I think you made him a bit too talkative Maestro," Bronze said.

"Again with the hey!" Jazz replied. "I aint deaf alright."

"Well Bronze, I hope you can bear with his chatter because you'll be spending the next few days together."

"WHAT!" both bots exclaimed.

"I need you to teach him the finer art of transforming," Maestro said to Bronze. "And I need you, Jazz, to learn as much as you can. Your very survival may depend on it."

"How long?" Bronze asked.

"As long as it takes. Let him experience something of life outside the walls of his home, and have some interaction with other mechs and femmes. Take him with you when you leave."

"Today?" Jazz asked. "But I'm not ready. You haven't told me enough, I don't know what to do."

"I could tell you everything I know, but it would do you no good unless you can learn for yourself. I have told you enough for you to survive. And you will survive."

"What if I screw up?"

"Learn from your mistakes and do not lose faith. You must learn to look after yourself Jazz. I wont always be here. Don't be afraid, Bronze's bark is worse than his bite."


	11. Return

**Return**

Bronze worked with Jazz for close to two weeks, mainly teaching him how to maneuver and change speeds. Jazz began to adapt to it very easily. Maestro had done a good job on that programming. When not out driving, Jazz often helped him to run the spare-parts warehouse or run errands for customers or other neighboring stores. His charm and easy-going personality soon won over many of the bots in the area.

Then one day, while he was at the front counter, a femme walked in quite unlike any he'd seen before. She looked older, and more refined.

"Can I help you ma'am?" he asked.

"I'm looking for a mech called Maestro. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Maestro? Of course! I can take you to him if you like. Wouldn't mind paying the old bot a visit myself. Hey ol' buddy, mind if I step out for a bit?"

Bronze came out from the back. "Jazz, how many times have I told you, you cant go running off when you feel like it. There are certain – ." He stopped short when he saw the femme. "Orchestra. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Maestro. I need to tell him where I'm going. He has a right to know Bronze."

"Now hold on a second here," Jazz said. "Don't mean to interrupt and all, but who is she? And what does she want with Maestro?"

"My name is Orchestra and I am an old friend of his. Who are you?"

"This is Jazz," said Bronze. "Maestro's creation."

"Maestro created you? Why that rusting slag bucket. He did it after all."

"Yes he did," Maestro said, coming in through the front door. "Never thought I'd see you here Orchestra. What changed?"

"Bronze didn't tell you?"

"Apparently Bronze hasn't told me a lot of things."

"I met her in Polyhex when I went up there to buy some spare parts. She asked me where I was from, when I told her she asked me if I knew you," Bronze said.

"I also asked him not to tell you we met," Orchestra added. "As I had a feeling you would not like it much. For you first question: I am on my way to Levatron."

"That city is a warzone and you know it. It is no place for you," Maestro said.

"You're not the only one who made a promise to Chord. Levatron was his city, where he was created. You may want to wait till you slowly fade away and die Maestro, but I intend to go out the same way Chord did – fighting."

"You're not as young as you were either."

"Look who's talking. Anyway I am not going alone. Bronze agreed to come with me."

The look on Maestro's face was one that Jazz had never seen before. The old bot turned to him.

"Jazz, go home. The three of us have some issues to discuss. I'll see you back at the house."

"Will you be alright?" Jazz asked, optics wide with concern.

"Perfectly fine. Go on home."

Jazz headed to the door, glanced back once more and stepped outside. Once on the road, he transformed. Before he drove off he heard Maestro's voice rise against the other two. As he headed back he pieced together what had just happened. Obviously their little dispute had started long before he ever came online, and he was only a small part of it, but he was curious as to what happened.

Maestro returned later that night. Jazz heard the front door slam shut and looked up from the datapad he was reading. He heard Maestro moving around in the front room and muttering something under his breath. Jazz sat up in his recharge berth and looked towards the door, wondering if the old robot would come in. when nothing happened after 5 minutes, he spoke up.

"Maestro are you alright?"

"I'm fine Jazz, don't worry about me."

Something in Jazz's central processor told him that the old mech was lying. He got off the berth and went to the door. "You don't sound fine to me. Matter of fact, you sound pretty down. Wanna talk about it?"

Maestro looked at him from his position on the couch. "Well, Vector Sigma did a good job with you, I'll give it that."

"Right, I have no idea what that just meant, but it's a start," Jazz replied as he went and sat next to Maestro. "I'm your creation, I have questions. Its your job to give me answers. For starters, what's the deal with Orchestra and Bronze and how am I involved in it?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got all night and I need a bedtime story."


	12. Thief

**Thief**

Jazz was feeling restless the next day. Maestro was still resting and he didn't want to disturb the old mech by asking him what he had to do today. So Jazz decided to go out and explore Ferronix a little more. He could've gone over to Bronze's, but after what happened yesterday, he figured it was best to keep at a distance for a while till things calmed down. Besides, Orchestra was probably there.

All these thoughts sifted through Jazz's mind as he cruised through Ferronix's narrow streets and he found himself slowing down, when all he wanted to do was break free. There had to be a way he could stop thinking for a while. He increased speed till he was almost flying along the street, enjoying the rush and all the blurred images whizzing past his sensors.

He didn't notice the dead end around the corner till it was too late. He slammed on his breaks, but it didn't stop him in time. He impacted sideways with the titanium wall, felt metal cave in, and then slipped into blissful darkness…

"Jazz."

Jazz groaned as the world came back into focus and pain assailed his circuits. He hoped the voice was Maestro's.

"Jazz, wake up."

The voice was female and somewhat familiar.

"I am awake," he said.

"Well then transform. Unless you want to be stuck there."

Jazz transformed slowly, ignoring the cries of protest from his internal mechanics. His optics focused on Orchestra kneeling beside him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Was in the area. Heard the crash. Came over and found you nesting in the wall. I probably don't want to know what happened."

"Not really."

"Thought so. Now where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

"Good. Then you're ok."

"Huh? How'd you figure that?"

"If you were badly injured somewhere, you'd have pointed out the specific area. Since you just hurt everywhere, you're just feeling the after-effects of the impact."

"Right, that makes sense." He struggled to a sitting position and brought his arm up, revealing a gash on his side that leaked oil every now and then. "Darn it! Maestro's gonna kill me."

Orchestra came closer to him. "Hold still and let me have a look." Jazz flinched away. She sighed. "I'm trying to help you."

"Why should I trust you? Maestro said you didn't even want me to be created."

"I thought he'd fail."

"Well that's encouraging. Now you think I'm a failure."

"I did not say that. Look, I can help you now, or I can leave you here to try and make it back home on your own. Its your choice."

"Maestro warned me there'd be days like these. Oh alright, but don't even think of trying any funny tricks."

Orchestra let the comment slide and began to patch up Jazz the best she could. She had to admit she admired his patience and the fact that he did nothing more than wince a few times as she applied her first aid skills – which were nothing to be marveled at – to his wound.

"Okay," she said at last. "Lets get you up and back home, c'mon, on your feet." She helped him stand and put an arm around his waist. "Now take it slowly."

The walk home was a long one and for a long while there was silence between bot and femme. Then Jazz spoke up.

"So what do you want in return for helping me?"

"Oh you'll know soon enough."

"But why wait? No time like the present as they say."

"Well if you must know, I want the key."

"The key?"

"Maestro's key, the one that brought you to life. Get it for me and we're even."

"No offense and all, but why would you be wanting that?"

"That's being too curious."

"That's messing with Maestro's stuff. You'll pardon me if I say I have a right to know."

"For life then," she said. "Maestro's success with you has made me think that building a new robot to take our places once we're gone may not be such a bad idea."

"Take your place? What do you mean?"

"Oh come now, don't be so naïve. Why do you think Maestro created you? Not for the companionship, I'll tell you that. He made you to take his place, to carry on his work after he's gone. Don't believe me? Ask him yourself."

Jazz didn't reply and fell back into silence for the rest of the walk home.

When they got back to the house Orchestra remained outside.

"You owe me," she said. "Go on. My sensors indicate Maestro's still asleep. You should have no problem."

Jazz tossed her a black look and went inside. He quietly slipped into Maestro's room. With the light grace of a dancer he crossed the room and found the key on a small table. After picking it up, he came back out to Orchestra.

"Nice job," she said. "You'll make a fine saboteur someday. Tell Maestro not to bother looking for me. Bronze and I leave Ferronix tonight."

"Have a safe trip," Jazz replied caustically and shut the door.

Maestro found Jazz later that evening sitting on his berth and looking at the ceiling. He noticed all the dents and scrapes.

"Primus above Jazz, what happened to you?" he asked, coming inside quickly.

"I'm alright. I just had a small accident. I'll be fine," Jazz tried to assure him. "I was going a bit too fast and hit a wall 'cause I couldn't stop in time."

"Any particular reason for speeding?"

"Too much energy."

"Hmm… Well a most odd thing happened just now. I seem to have misplaced the key I used to bring you to life. I was going to give it to you as a sort of gift, and now I simply cannot remember where I put it. I could have sworn I left it on the table."

"You did. I took it."

"Oh. Well that's alright then."

"No, its not. I gave it to Orchestra."

"Orchestra? … Jazz, what really happened to you today?"

Jazz caved in and told Maestro about everything that took place from the time he left the house, but to his surprise, the old robot didn't look angry.

"Well well, the key is gone. It doesn't matter. I know Bronze will see that it's put to good use. Orchestra," he sighed. "She was never quite the same after Chord died. Perhaps she blames me partly for his death."

"Why would she do that?"

"I was supposed to protect him."

"Nobody's perfect."

Maestro laughed. "I guess not. Don't fret Jazz, and don't be angry with them if you can help it. They're just doing what they think is right. Anger is a negative emotion, remember that."

"I'll try to…. But can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why did you give me the name Jazz?"

"Well… as you know I was a musician once upon a time."

"Still are."

Maestro smiled at him. "Maybe just a little bit. Anyway, one of my favorite genres of music was, and still is, jazz music. Hence your name."

"Alright. Then how about you teach me a little more about music and all that stuff?" Jazz asked.

Part of him recalled what Orchestra had said about Maestro creating him to take his place and carry on his work. Jazz wanted to make sure he did at least one thing right.

"I thought you'd never ask," Maestro said.


	13. News

**News**

Months passed and Jazz began to grow a little more in wisdom and experience day by day. Maestro delighted in teaching his young protégé all the tricks of his trade, from singing, right down to the creation of songs. Jazz absorbed everything like a sponge, thrilled to the core whenever Maestro taught him something new. Maestro's reward was hearing Jazz sing or hum some tune or the other, for the young mech had a unique and beautiful voice.

There came a day when Maestro took Jazz to meet his friend Wheeljack. When they got to the old shop however, they found it closed and half broken down.

"What happened here?" Maestro asked a bot in one of the neighboring warehouses.

"The owner finally went off the deep end and lost all his money," the other mech said. "Decided to melt the place down and himself along with it."

"What happened to the other robot that was with him? The young one?"

"Last I heard, he was heading to Iacon. Good for him. He was a good kid, didn't deserve the treatment he was getting from that mech."

"Yes, well I hope he makes it. Too bad you couldn't meet him Jazz, I think you would have like him."

"Ah hey, you never know. Maybe we'll cross paths someday."

"Well then, lets head down to The Cube and see what's going on in the rest of Cybertron."

The Cube, which was normally a very quiet place even on a good day, was as busy as a hive of turbomoths around an ener-lamp when Maestro and Jazz walked in.

"What's go them all stirred up I wonder?" Maestro asked.

"I think if we sit down we'll find out soon enough," Jazz said. "Since all these guys are talkin' like nobody's business."

They found an empty table in a corner and sat down. Maestro pulled out some credits and passed them to Jazz.

"Buy three drinks. Two for us and one for whoever we invite to talk to us."

"Sure thing."

Jazz palmed the credits and began to make his way over to the bar counter. When he got back, Maestro had already roped in a volunteer of sorts and was now striking up a conversation. Jazz set the 3 mugs down on the table and sat back down again. Maestro winked.

"Jazz," he said. "This is Tech. He's agreed to join us for a drink and a chat."

"Oh, that's nice," Jazz played along.

"Nice to meetcha," the slightly overcharged, green and yellow bot said, extending his hand.

Jazz shook it. "So, what's all the fuss in here about?"

"You mean you guys aint heard the news?" Tech asked.

"Been a little outta the loop if ya know what I mean," Jazz said.

Tech hadn't the slightest clue what Jazz meant, but nodded anyway. "You know them buncha robots been causing trouble down South? They be calling themselves Icons of Deception, – Decepticons for short – said they were descended from the military hardware of old, and going around bragging about how they conned others into joining them." Tech stopped to take a long swig of his drink.

Maestro and Jazz sipped their own drinks and waited patiently for him to continue.

"Well their leader be saying that Cybertron needs a ruler, and he's it. 'Course everyone laughed at him. Then they started the fighting. Them folk shouldn't have brushed him off so easily. Levatron fell to his group yesterday."

"What!" Both Maestro and Jazz looked up sharply.

"I aint kidding. Once they killed off the opposition, most of the others surrendered. Those who were lucky fled north."

"What do they plan to do next?" Maestro asked.

"They're marching north. They want to take over Cybertron even if they have to do it city by city."

"That's not good," said Jazz. "Aint someone gonna do anything about this?"

"Well all the high-ups from the big cities like Iacon, Polyhex and the lot are holding council up in Iacon tomorrow. Primus only knows how that's going to help us."

Maestro stood up and slapped Tech on the back. "Many thanks for the information my friend. I'm afraid Jazz and I have to be going, but you enjoy yourself alright."

"Yeah sure, was nice meeting y'all."

Jazz and Maestro exited the bar. Once outside, Jazz looked at the old mech.

"I know what you're thinking," Maestro said. "What about Bronze and Orchestra." He sighed. "I tried to talk them out of going Jazz, that day. But they were adamant. I'm afraid we may have to fear the worst. I hope they were some of the few who escaped. Only time will tell, if it tells at all. Come, let us go home."

Time told soon enough…

A message arrived from a thoroughly worn out flier a few days later. After tending to mech till he was well enough to be on his way again, they read Orchestra's letter…

: Maestro and Jazz… I write to inform you that Bronze has been killed in battle. When the Decepticons attacked, Bronze, our new robot and myself, tried to escape, but we were pursued. Bronze gave his life so that we could get away. The new robot and I are trying to make it to Iacon. I send this message to ask for your forgiveness. You were right Maestro, I should never have gone down to Levatron.

I hope you can forgive me enough to grant me one last favor…

As you know, you and I don't have much time left. So I have told my robot to seek out your robot if he cannot make it to Iacon by himself. I beg you Maestro, please tell Jazz not to be angry with him eventhough he may hate me.

Orchestra:

Maestro hurled the datapad to the floor, making it shatter into pieces. Jazz took half a step back.

"Foolish!" he said. "A waste of a good bot's life. I warned her about going down to Levatron, Primus above, why couldn't she listen!"

Jazz placed a hand on the old mech's shoulder. "You tried your best. You talked to both of them, they knew the dangers going in. bronze made his choice."

Maestro nodded in resignation, and stared again at the red marking on his paint. It had been a long time since he'd seen actual color on his body.

Word out of Levatron was that the Decepticons could be identified by a specific purple symbol, so the council of Iacon had declared that every other Automated Robot – or Autobots as they were now being called – would be marked with a red symbol to differentiate.

Officials had come down the previous day from Polyhex and marked the residents of Ferronix, Maestro and Jazz included, but so far, that was all they had done.

Different stories began to surface from the few refugees about what had really happened at Levatron. Some said the Decepticons were cold killers, others said that they had been provoked into a frenzy by those who resisted their presence in the city. Maestro chose not to listen to the random gossip that did the rounds within the bars and neighborhood, and more than once was relieved that his house was situated outside the town. Gossip took a long time to reach them.

Maestro shook his head at the red symbol on his arm.

"It doesn't stand out," he said. "And its so plain. There's no real style to it. Its not worth the effort if you cant add some style to it, you might as well not bother."

"Yes, well style or not its compulsory, unless you wanna be mistaken for a 'Con," Jazz said. "And at least the mech didn't slap it on your chest instead of your arm." He looked at his own symbol that glared back from his chest which made up the hood of his hovercar mode.

"So you're saying I should be thankful for small mercies?"

"Definitely, 'cause there's always the possibility that it could be worse than it already is."

"Interesting logic there lad. And how could it have been worse for you?"

"They could've slapped it on my face instead."

Maestro laughed. "You've made your point. And thank you Jazz, for cheering me up."

"No problem. But hey, I don't want ya to think that I aint mourning for Bronze too, I mean the bot was like a big brother to me." Jazz's face went serious. "And I wish he'd have stayed around longer to teach me a few more tricks. So yeah, I'm pretty bummed about that."

"But why cry when you can laugh right?"

"Exactly."

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**A/N: **i apologize profusely for the delay... now that i work from my laptop, i've been trying all this while to access my desktop again and retrieve a bunch of fic that i had left on it, including this one.. i was finally successful... so i hope you enjoy this... there's one more chapter left...


	14. Passing

Jazz lived out the next two years with Maestro, and with the exception of Bronze's death, the rest of his days had been happy ones. The Decepticon bid for total dominance was somewhat halted for the moment by resistance forces from the larger cities. During this time Jazz and Maestro often went out together along the main South Road in the hopes that they could find some sign of Orchestra and her creation, if not the actual bots themselves. So far their search had turned up empty.

And then one day, it just all spiraled downhill. The Decepticons were pressing forward again. Lapses in some of the Autobots' security had allowed Decepticon spies to slip into the towns and divulge their secrets. There were also those mechs who voluntarily chose to become Decepticons out of a sense of honor to their military hardware ancestors.

Jazz walked into Maestro's room one day and found the old mech still lying in his recharge berth. It was already late in the day and Maestro never slept in this long. So Jazz came in to check if he was alright. The first thing he noticed was that Maestro's colors had faded even more.

"Hey Maestro, are you alright?" Jazz knelt by the berth.

"Jazz." Even his voice sounded weaker. "I've been having a sense of foreboding all night."

"About what?"

"You need to get out of Ferronix. Its not safe to stay here anymore. You must leave and head North. Make it to Iacon somehow."

"But you, you're coming with me aren't you? We'll go together."

"No Jazz. This time you must go by yourself."

"If something bad's gonna happen I'm not leaving you here to face it alone. We're both going or I aint going at all."

Maestro looked up at Jazz and he noticed that the light in his blue optics had grown dim. "I'm afraid you will not have to worry about me much longer."

"Ok, you're starting to scare me now. I'm gonna go out and find you a medic or something."

He was about to stand when Maestro gripped his hand.

"Stay," he said. "There is no medic on Cybertron that can help me now. We are not as immortal as some would have you believe – or at least my race is not. They just don't make spare parts for us anymore."

"I don't understand Maestro. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm dying Jazz. My systems have finally caught up with me and even as I speak to you now, they are shutting down one by one. I am old Jazz, older than you know, and now my time is up. You have to let me go."

"But you cant! I'm not ready yet! There's still so much I don't know. I still need you Maestro."

"I have taught you everything you need, and I have programmed even more into you. You are ready to go out on your own."

Jazz blinked and trickles of fluid spilled from his optics. He dabbed at it with his fingers. "What's wrong with me? Why am I leaking?" he asked.

"There is nothing wrong with you. Those are tears Jazz – a physical reaction to deep sadness. Don't fight them, they will help you ease the pain you feel inside."

"I'm just scared Maestro. Cybertron's a big planet."

"And you're a big mech now. Believe in yourself Jazz."

"I'm still scared. What do you want me to do?"

"I made a promise to a young bot a long long time ago that I would not let music die. I created you to fulfill that promise. You must carry on Jazz. This world, or any for that matter, cannot survive without music."

"That's a big responsibility. What if I cant pull it off?"

"You will. You will find a way. My spark tells me that if you go out into the world, you may find others like you – not created solely for music as you were, but with talents they do not know they possess."

"What if I fail?"

"Then you try again. And you keep trying till you succeed. You cannot achieve success without making mistakes first. You already know this Jazz."

Jazz squeezed the old mech's hand, unable to find anymore words to say. Maestro handed him a small pouch.

"Keep this safe," he said. "There's about 2000 credits inside. You will not go hungry if you spend it wisely and take no more than you must."

Jazz took the pouch, felt its weight and then subspaced it, sighing heavily. Maestro patted his hand.

"I would not have created you if I knew you would not survive. I wont lie to you, there is a war coming, and things are likely to get worse before they get better. But keep your head up and remember what is more important in life."

"I'll remember. I wont let you down Maestro."

"I need you to do one more thing before you go. All the equipment I used to create you – destroy it. Destroy everything. I don't want looters coming in here once you're gone and messing about with everything."

"You got it," Jazz assured.

"That's good."

The light in his optics at last began to flicker out, until there was nothing more than a small blue flame left.

"Maestro!"

"No Jazz. Let me go."

"But – !"

"You're a good lad, more than I could have hoped for. But it is time to say goodbye. You have to go now. And remember." The old mech smiled weakly. "Do it with style, or don't bother doing it."

The flame went out and his optics grew black.

For a good long hour, Jazz remained by the berth and wept. Finally, he worked up the strength to get to his feet, and looking once more at Maestro's still form, he left the room, locking the door behind him. He went into his room and collected up the few things he'd come to treasure. Then he went out and found a thick length of industrial piping.

Moments later he stood in front of all Maestro's equipment, the very things that had been used to create him and give him life. He hefted the steel bar in his hands, took a deep breath, and then swung it as hard as he could at the nearest monitor. Glass shattered, metal crumpled. Jazz turned his sorrow into energy, lashing out at consoles and monitors, effectively demolishing everything in sight. His own strength was surprising him. He didn't know he was capable of such destruction and it scared him. He let the pipe drop from his hand.

Taking one last look around at his home, Jazz moved to the door, stepped outside and then shut the door behind him. Ferronix lay just in front of him and beyond that, the city of Dyacron and finally the golden city of Iacon. Jazz had to make it there somehow. He had no idea how he was going to get there all by himself, but he had to try. He'd promised Maestro. All he needed to do was first get out of Ferronix. He took a breath.

"One day at a time Jazz," he told himself.

Then he transformed, and without looking back, drove off, leaving behind everything he had ever known. It was time to start on a new chapter of his life.

The End… or is it?

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**A/N: **And here it is, the final chapter... It became surprisingly hard for me to write because by the end of the whole thing I'd become rather close to Maestro, having journeyed with him through his life and seeing how he overcame all his obstacles to create the Bot we all know and love so well... I didnt write this story... Maestro did. This was his life, his journey and his end - I just copied down everything he told me... and well... we may not have seen the last of him after all...

This is only the first installment of an even bigger trilogy, so stay tuned for Rhythm 'N' Bots, the second (and much LONGER) installment of the Five Stars trilogy..


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